Mara's farmhouse was like, you know, the kind of place that had seen a bunch of her family over the years. It was two stories of clapboard, and it had these really cozy vibes because it was all about keeping warm when it was cold outside. The thing was, it was pretty tiny, with hallways so narrow you'd think you were in a dollhouse, and ceilings so low that even a person like me would have to watch my head. She had a bedroom upstairs for herself and little Emma, and downstairs there was this teeny-tiny living room that was also where they ate. Off to the side, there was this little room that used to be a pantry, but she turned it into a storage spot.
So, she brought Grey into that storage room, which didn't have any windows, and it was like eight feet by ten, so not exactly spacious. She threw a mattress on the floor, and that was his new crash pad. The room had shelves everywhere with old mason jars full of veggies she'd pickled and stuff she'd preserved. There was this one light bulb hanging from the ceiling, and it was like, super bright when you turned it on.
Mara was talking to herself when she said, "It's not the Ritz, but it's warm and dry," 'cause Grey was out of it.
Emma, who was just a little two-year-old cutie, peeked in and asked, "Mama, who's that?"
Mara just told her, "He's a family member, Em. He's not feeling well, so we gotta keep it down, okay?"
Emma took it like a champ, nodded, and went back to playing with her toys.
For a whole week, Mara basically became Grey's nurse, popping in every few hours to give him water and aspirin, and trying to get him to eat something. The poor guy was burning up with fever, and he talked almost as much as a brick wall. But the weirdest part was this song he kept singing. It was like, "Cr Cr Cr Autumn Grey, never thought you'd always come..." It was kind of pretty, but also sad, and it got stuck in Mara's head like a catchy tune from a commercial.
After about ten days, Grey finally started to get better. One night, she brings him dinner, and he's actually sitting up. He looks at her and says, "You're Mara," like he just realized it.
Mara's all, "Yeah, and this is my place. You've been out of it for a week."
He looks around the room and goes, "It's a bit small, huh?"
"It's all I've got," she says, like she's worried he's gonna complain. "You can go whenever you're feeling better."
But instead of making up some story about people waiting for him or big plans, he just looks at her with these sad puppy dog eyes and says, "I don't have anywhere else to go."
It's like he's telling her he's totally on his own, and that hits Mara hard. She feels kind of bad, so she tells him to eat his soup before it gets cold, and then leaves him to it.
After he's done, he says, "Thanks for letting me stay." And she nods and takes the bowl, feeling all sorts of things she wasn't expecting.
She stands outside the room for a bit, listening to him get comfy again, and she can't shake this feeling. Maybe it's 'cause she knows what it's like to have a rough go of it. But whatever it is, it's definitely not just about giving someone a place to sleep anymore.